


Queen of the Swarm Omake by Me

by Jimm



Series: Omakes [1]
Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimm/pseuds/Jimm
Summary: These are some omake I wrote for QoS by Vherstinae.  I am posting them here primarily because I want to see what AO3 chapter and author notes look like.  But these are legitimate pieces I did write, so it's all good, right?Queen of the Swarm by Vherstinae can be found on SpaceBattles and ffnet.





	1. Floppy Bathrobe Man!

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Queen of the Swarm](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/314496) by Vherstinae. 



> Queen of the Swarm by Vherstinae sparked a large number of omake which snowballed considerably. Mine are based a possible future shown in other omakes, mostly by ToNotBe.  
> (These are the notes at the beginning of the over all work.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grampa tells young Sarah a bedtime story.  
> (Chapter summary chapter 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Hebert, daughter of Taylor and Lisa (with assistance from Amy) was created by ToNotBe.  
> (Chapter 1 beginning notes)

**FLOPPY BATHROBE MAN!**  
  
“I want a bedtime story, Grampa!” Sarah cried as she bounced on her bed.  
  
“Stop that, you’ll ruin the bed,” I scolded as hard as I could--which truthfully wasn’t very hard. My 6 year old granddaughter had weapons grade levels of cute and no reluctance to use them.  
  
“Nuh-huh! Momma got it special for me after Ralph wrecked the last one. Mommy says it’s ‘Dinger proof!”  
  
‘Ralph’ was Sarah’s name for raptors this week. Any and all raptors. She’d been 5 when she realized that the dozen raptors around the house at any given time where only a fraction of all of them around the city. She later confessed she’d thought there were only three that were just really, really fast. A 6 year old with her own Brute rating (only a 1, but still cause for concern on the playground) roughhousing with her pet raptors could do a lot of damage. And ‘Ralph’, like pets immemorial, was happy to take the blame. A special, possibly even Tinkertech bed wasn’t a bad idea.  
  
“‘Dinger’?” I asked, “What’s a Dinger?”  
  
“Endinger!” Sarah said through a yawn as she plopped down. “Momma said Mommy was just being silly. But she said it’ll last until my wedding night and then she’ll grow it bigger for me! Because then I’ll be bigger and maybe have to share like Momma and Mommy do.”  
  
“Endbringer, sweetie,” I corrected, enunciating clearly. Lisa jokes about a lot of things, but rarely Endbringers. And my daughter was either fudging on her pledge to not make new creations off the record or there was another industry they were planning to tank with massively over engineered products produced (grown) at a fraction of the price. This time, I’d be happy if it just got that annoying jingle off the radio that one mattress company had used for decades.  
  
Explanations about wedding nights and ‘having’ to share were firmly outside a grandfather’s area of responsibility. Thank god.  
  
“Endbringer,” she agreed, squirming under the covers and yawning again.  
  
Taylor and Lisa, along with the rest of the Undersiders, were out tonight at the company New Year’s Eve party. I’d stayed home with Sarah and we’d watched the classic New Year’s ball drop in New York on the TV in our pajamas and me in my bathrobe and her in a large men’s flannel shirt she’d randomly adopted. She’d lasted that late through perseverance, determination, and an extra long nap earlier in the day--Auntie Aisha’s suggestion.  
  
Getting herself situated, Sarah tugged the long sleeves of her cuddlebug theme pajamas down before gravely accepting Stacie, her favorite cuddlebug. A squeeze and a squeak had Stacie properly positioned and Sarah gripped the edge of the covers when I pulled them up to her chin.  
  
“What kind of story do you want?” I asked, stepping over to the bookcase. I had to hold the loose, oversized sleeve on one arm of my bathrobe in the other hand to avoid dragging it across the shelf and knocking down the dozens of origami raptors, cuddlebugs, spikers and other critters that were carefully arranged in front of the books. A paper Atlas held place of pride in the center. “Cinderella? Your Momma always liked that one.”  
  
“No, I want a made up story. One with silly heroes.”  
  
I turned back with raised eyebrows, letting my sleeves fall back down. The robe was a recent Christmas gift from Alec and while a bit awkwardly oversized, it was extremely soft and warm. When it comes to hedonistic gifts, nobody beats Alec.  
  
“Silly heroes, eh?” Making up bedtime stories on the fly was something Annette started with Taylor and Taylor continued with Sarah for those nights when a precociously smart kid just couldn’t make up her mind on which story to hear. And any child from Taylor and Lisa was always going to be precociously smart.  
  
“Hmm,” I swung my arms up and held them straight out to the sides, “A flying hero? How about with wings, like Condorman?” I waved my arms up and down.  
  
Sarah gave a half-sleepy, half-excited nod, “But with a silly name, too.”  
  
I pondered as I waved my arms up and down a few more times. The loose sleeves were well suited to this. Experimentally, I waved faster and the heavy material made a pleasant ‘plop-plop’ as it met my arms going up and down. Well, she did ask for silly...  
  
Grinning, I flapped my arms as fast as I could and using my best deep announcer voice said, “I... am… FLOPPY BATHROBE MAN! And! With my trusty teammate...” the word ‘sidekick’ was an epithet not to be used--unless Aisha and Alec were being particularly snarky, “FLANNEL GIRL!” a pause to tap my giggling granddaughter on the nose, ”We defend the citizens of Brockton Bay from MILDLY INCLEMENT WEATHER and the CHILLS!”  
  
“What’s inclement weather?”  
  
I answered in my normal voice, “It means cold and wet,” ramping back up to announcer voice as I continued, “But it is also the name of Brockton Bay villain MILDLY INCLEMENT WEATHER and her gang of henchmen,” also a modern trigger word, but one Sarah understood not to use for real people, “the CHILLS!”  
  
For ten minutes I spun a tale of profoundly inept villainy and extremely silly--and floppy--heroics.  
  
The last bedtime story of the year was a huge success.  
  
=================  
  
“Sooo, Danny… I hear you have your own cape name now.” Lisa grinned over the top of her steaming coffee mug at me as I came into the kitchen New Years day.  
  
We’d all slept in until Sarah woke up and decided that Flannel Girl needed to be introduced to each and every member of the household and the adventures of Floppy Bathrobe Man against the evil of Mildly Inclement Weather explained. Loudly. Much as I love my granddaughter, ‘dulcet tones’ was not a phrase that could be applied when she got excited about something. Now most of the house was gathering for brunch. I could still hear Sarah KA-POWing Chills in the family room.  
  
I demonstrated the floppy part with a smile, “It’s better than most of the names you guys have come up with.” Over the years, various Undersiders had given me ‘cape names’ ranging from Union Guy to Skidadder.  
  
Aisha grinned and said, “And Flannel Girl is better than Skeeter--”  
  
“We’re not calling her that,” Taylor interjected, it was a spinal reflex by now.  
  
“--or Skitterling--”  
  
“That either.”  
  
“Princess!” came from the other room.  
  
“Also no.”  
  
“--Fore Point One Sight--”  
  
Lisa rolled her eyes and shook a finger at Aisha.  
  
“--Or Fivesight--”  
  
Taylor cut her off, Aisha could go for hours if you let her. “You know, we’re going to have to remember this. To suggest, when she’s old enough to seriously want a cape name, but still young enough to be embarrassed by childhood antics,” she said with a grin.  
  
“Oh definitely,” I stated, “Somethings should definitely be remembered.” Taylor was already starting to preemptively turn red. She recognized my ‘embarrassing daughter’ tone. Lisa leaned forward grinning wider yet. “Like, say, Captain Blue Beach Towel?”  
  
Taylor groaned and buried her face in her hands while the others laughed, “God, I had forgotten about that.”  
  
That kicked off a whole discussion of embarrassing moments growing up in a world where capes are real.  
  
“--What’s wrong with Dogranger?--”  
  
“--Princess Umbra. I told her, ‘There’s black pride and then there’s--’”  
  
“Shut up! What about when your best friend already called Blackjack, somebody decided that Bluejack was just as good--”  
  
“--Tenderloin? Tenderloin?!--”  
  
“Hey! All I knew, it was an expensive cut--”  
  
“--Magnadoodle. Turns out that’s a thing--”  
  
“--brother called me Princess Vomit, that count?--”  
  
“--The Plaid Enforcer!--”  
  
“--Superspin!--”  
  
“--Together they! Are! TEAM LAUNDRY!--”  
  
My rather unconventional family teased and laughed together for the rest of the day. It was a great start to the New Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Undersiders coming together as a family is one of my favorite aspects of QoS.  
> (Chapter 1 end notes)


	2. Job Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young up-and-comer interviews with the Undersiders for a PR position.  
> (This is the chapter summary of chapter 2.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True script form is a blight that thankfully fanfic left behind in the 90s. But it is well suited to short, humorous pieces. This was inspired by ToNotBe's Tea and Book Appreciation Society series of omake.  
> (This is chapter 2 beginning notes.)

**Job Interview**  
  
Taylor: *runs into room, sliding to a stop on stocking feet with a squeeeak*  
Lisa: “S’up?”  
Baby Sarah, cradled in Lisa’s arms: *nom-nom-noms as a good baby should*  
Taylor: *flicks on screen* “You gotta see this. They’re interviewing for the PR flack job.”  
Lisa: *intuits everything as a good Tattletale should* “Oh this _will_ be good.”  
  
*screen shows a small conference room with Danny, Brian and Rachel on one side of a table and a young man in a… colorful plaid suit on the opposite side*  
  
Taylor: *giggles* “It’s the second coming of Glen!”  
Lisa: “All PR types dress like that now. And yes, it is Glen’s fault.”  
Taylor: “No Aisha and Alec?”  
Lisa: “On patrol. Or cuddling somewhere. Possibly both.”  
  
Danny: “--give us some examples of your ideas?”  
Interviewee: “Well, how about a bug that flashes differ--”  
Brian: *by reflex* “VETO!”  
Danny: “I’m sorry, we have a moratorium on new bug ideas while Skitter and Foresight are on maternity leave. *mutters* And the last thing she needs is more ideas.”  
  
Taylor: “Hey! I’m not that bad!”  
Lisa: “Two words: Diaper. Bug.”  
Taylor: *mutters* “I still say that’s a great idea.”  
Lisa: “Our daughter can develop her own kinks later in life without you starting her early.”  
Baby Sarah: *nom-nom-noms as a good baby should*  
  
Interviewee: *blinks* “Okaay… Oh, here’s another idea: Skitter’s Critters already sells collectable outfits for cuddlebugs; have you considered coordinating outfits for their owners? Or going in a different direction, Halloween costumes? Skitter costumes with matching Atlas costume in cuddlebug size? Spiker and raptor costumes for dogs…  
  
Lisa: *snickers*  
Taylor: “Soooo embarrassing…”  
Baby Sarah: *stops nomming and starts fidgeting*  
Lisa: *raises Baby Sarah to her shoulder and pats her back*  
Baby Sarah: *lets out a window rattling belch as a good baby should*  
Taylor: “Dear lord, what are you feeding her?!”  
  
Rachel: *frowning* “No costumes for dogs.”  
Interviewee: “But--”  
Rachel: “No costumes for dogs!”  
Interviewee: “Okaay… Oh! Have you considered theme names? It’s all the rage in the west coast cape scene right now.”  
Brian: “What are theme names?”  
Interviewee: “Right now, you have a team name, The Undersiders, and individual cape names, but there’s no connection between them. What if, instead of Grue and Cerberus, you called yourselves… Darkside and Outside? Oh! Or Undershadow and Underdog? Wait, that’s kinda taken--”  
  
Taylor: “Underdog!”  
Lisa: “There’s no need to fear! Underdog is here!”  
Baby Sarah: *smiles and coos as a good baby should*  
  
Rachel: *growls and starts fumbling with her boot under the table*  
Danny: *keeps a straight face--honest!*  
Interviewee: *continues, oblivious* “--are a couple now, they could do a theme name for the family. Skitter should keep her name--it’s very popular--but perhaps Foresight would consider a reference to her old name and use Skitattle?”  
  
Lisa: *eyebrow twitching*: “...Skitattle?”  
Taylor: *rolling on the floor crying in laughter*  
Baby Sarah: *giggles*  
  
Danny: *coughs into his hand--honest!* “I’m not sure--”  
Interviewee: *on a roll* “Oh! And the baby could be Skidaughter!”  
Rachel: *fumbles at her boot faster*  
  
Baby Sarah: *chooses that moment to make happy baby noise*  
Cuddlebugs: *all perk up at the young mistress’ attempt to speak ‘squeak’*  
Taylor: *can’t breath from laughing*  
  
Interviewee: *rolling on*: “Oh-Oh! You, sir, could get in on the act too! What do you think of *dramatic pause* Skidadder!”  
Brian: *has a coughing fit--honest!*  
Danny: *smiles* “I’m not sure it’s really appropriate for me--”  
Rachel: *beans Interviewee in the forehead with her rolled up sock*  
Brian: *grabs Rachel’s boot away from her* “I think maybe we should call it a day, before she gets her other boot off. It’s been pun--I mean fun--but you’d better… skedaddle.”  
  
Taylor: *gasping with laughter* “Gonna… pee… myself…”  
Lisa: *chortles--because she’s just classy that way*  
Baby Sarah: *scrunches her little face up in concentration*  
  
Interviewee: *surprised* “Er, if you say so.” *mutters* “I didn’t think they’d be so skittish.” *leaves*  
Rachel: *angry* “I am not skittish!” *pause* “I’ve never even been to Skitland.”  
  
Taylor: *dying on the floor*  
Lisa: *grinning like a loon*  
Baby Sarah: *fills her diaper with accompanying horrific sounds and smells--as a good baby should*  
Lisa: “Good lord!”  
Taylor: *dying on the floor again, for different reasons*  
Lisa: *passes Baby Sarah over to Taylor* “I am sooo glad I’m in charge of input and not output.”  
Taylor: “That _cannot_ be natural!”  
Lisa: “Not my fault.”  
Taylor: “Good lord, it’s glowing!”  
Lisa: “Also not my fault.”  
Taylor: *turning from slightly purple to slightly green* “Are you sure I can’t make--”  
Lisa: “Not even if you name it Skidiaper.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by 'Skidadder' and bad puns. And I wanted to try something a bit like the "Tea and Book Appreciation Society" omakes.  
> "Mr Bearington the Bear: *says nothing like a good little Barbie doll*"  
> (This is chapter 2 end notes.)


	3. Scenes from Biology Class

**Omake: Scenes from Biology Class**  
  
“Good afternoon, class. Welcome to Biology 101L, the laboratory companion course that goes with Biology 101, Introduction to Biology. Most of you will be here because the laboratory courses are required for many biology related fields and majors. Notably: Biochem, Pre-Med, Pre-Vet-Med, Parahuman Studies, Bio-Engineering and of course, Biology itself.  
  
“In this class you will learn how to prepare and view microscope slides, culture various micro-organisms, and dissect organisms of different complexity as they are covered in the lecture course. You will learn proper lab procedures and techniques to keep yourself and others safe and document your results. You will…”  
  
At the lab bench in the far corner, two young women tuned out the instructor to whisper to one another.  
  
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Isn’t it a bit like Hero showing up to take Electronics 101? For kindergarteners?”  
  
“I don’t have a lot of choice. Apparently being a biokinetic healer is only good for bypassing the rules while volunteering. If I want to open my own clinic, the state says I have to be an accredited MD. And what about you? You in basic biology class is like… like Picasso taking a portrait painting class. Bears some resemblance to the subject and is a rather… acquired taste.”  
  
“Hey now, I do biology! Sorta... Kinda… If you squint a little.” The two women snickered together.  
  
“Dad and Lisa ganged up on me about giving college a shot and this seemed a soft option for some easy LAS credit.”  
  
The professor continued, “...while I will be overseeing the class, each lab session will be lead by one of my Teaching Assistants, commonly: TAs; TAs are graduate students. Between their own classes and projects and some grad students turning out to not have an aptitude for teaching, odds are good you will see several different TAs here as the semester progresses…”  
  
“That sounds like a challenge.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“See how many TAs we can go through in a semester.”  
  
“Seems a bit cruel…”  
  
“A bit. But this is going to be sooo boring otherwise.”  
  
“Point.”  
\-----  
  
A digitized camera shutter click sound effect presaged the microscope picture appearing on the screen.  
  
“Let’s see how your plant cell slide came out… Huh. They don’t usually form smiley faces…” Another click. “Or wink.”  
  
Nobody giggled. Honest.  
\-----  
  
“Last week you each started a culture from a swab of your own mouth. Now after the samples have spent a week incubating on the growth media, count how many different organisms you can differentiate and count how many patches there are of each.”  
  
The new TA, the last having suddenly changed major, eventually got to the back bench.  
  
“And what are your counts so far Ms Dallon?”  
  
“Zero and zero. As I explained to the other TA last week, I do not have a naturally occurring internal biome”  
  
The TA, equipped with a roll/seating chart but not with a program of the local players, said “That shouldn’t be possible, nobody can survive without--”  
  
“If you’ll pardon the expression, ‘Bullshit powers are bullshit.’ Any micro-organism that contacts my body is instantly rendered inert. On the other hand, I can _create_ any micro-organism you might like. Like, say, smallpox. Or anthrax. Ebola. Bird flu, swine flu--anything flu, really. An airborne variety of HIV perhaps? Perhaps not--containment here isn’t very good. But since the instructions were to take a mouth swab and not contaminate it with anything else, that’s what I did.”  
  
“I… see,” the TA sounding a bit stunned, shook it off and turned to the second young woman, “And you, Ms Hebert?”  
  
“One and One!” She proudly displayed her petri dish which was one solid mass of purple.  
  
That glowed. And pulsed.  
  
The TA didn’t run until a pseudopod pushed the cover off.  
\-----  
  
“You will have an hour and a half to complete your dissection.” Another new out-of-towner TA. Shocking, I know. “Remember that you need to expose or remove all the major organs and label them for full credit. Call me over to see your work when you’re ready. You may now begin.”  
  
Two voices quietly counted off, “Ready, set, go!”  
  
A quick series of horrible squelching noises and cracks like a nail gun came from the back bench.  
  
“Done!”  
  
“Done--dammit!” came from the same bench a half second later.  
  
The TA blinked and strode purposefully to the back, “You two should be taking this more seriously…”  
  
Both animals were neatly opened and organs spread, as instructed. On one side, each organ was also apparently still attached, just somehow… stretched. And neatly labeled across the top. If they didn’t form letters, the colorations could have been completely natural variation.  
  
“Ms,” a glance at the seating chart supplied the name, “Dallon, you need to do the work here, not bring a pre-dissected animal. I cannot give you credit for this.”  
  
“I did do it here. Just now. Watch.” She touched a fingertip to the very tip of the specimen’s tail… and all the organs pulled back inside the body cavity--with a sound the TA knew was going to feature in future dreams--followed by the skin seamlessly sealing closed. Then it split open again--more nightmare fuel--and the organs pushed themselves out into the same convenient array, the labels forming simultaneously on each uppermost surface.  
  
The TA now blessed missing lunch--and planned to miss dinner. For a week. But it wasn’t much worse than that prolapsed cow last week and in a world where parahumans are a thing, you roll with the punches when you can.  
  
“Full credit. And you, Ms,” another glance at the chart, ”Herbert?” The second young woman was wiping her face and goggles. Her lab coat showed signs of… splatter.  
  
“Hebert, actually. Call me Skitter if you like.”  
  
The TA gulped. That was a name spoken in undertones of disbelief--and fear--when biologists got together.  
  
“As you can see,” the young woman-- _Skitter_ \--waved a hand over her work, “each organ is extracted and labeled.”  
  
And they were. Some looked slightly mangled and the skin appeared practically shredded, as if cut a dozen times instead of one long incision. The labels were small flags attached to pins stuck in the pan underneath next to--or occasionally through--each organ.  
  
“And I supposed you also somehow performed an hours work in twenty seconds?”  
  
“Yep! Let me show you--it’s sooo cool!”  
  
Several rat sized chitinous horrors climbed up onto the table-- _where did those come from?!_ \--and waved small bladed appendages. The TA lost focus on the conversation--but not, by a very small margin, bladder control--watching the tiny terrors that resembled cuddlebugs _not in the slightest._  
  
“...and each one also has a mini spike launcher based on my spiker design for setting the label flags! It’s super effective!” Then she-- _Skitter!_ \--looked a little sheepish as she pushed at the dissection pan--that didn’t move at all, “I do need to dial down the launchers, though. I’ll replace the pan--”  
  
Ms Dallon cleared her throat.  
  
“Okay, and the bench. Geez, Amy! Anyway, I call them,” she-- _Skitter!!_ \--grinned as she paused dramatically, “Mini-reavers!”  
  
The TA backed slowly up the aisle. “N-ninety percent. Some of the organs are-are damaged and-and those two labels are reversed. N-now, I suddenly remembered something I need to do--urgently!--somewhere… else. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Less, if I can find a bottle closer. Ladies,”-- _Skitter!!!_ \--“having completed the assignment, you may leave early. _Please_. You use that door; I’ll use this one.”  
  
“You know, I’m honestly impressed by that one.”  
  
“Yeah, me too. But I still win.”  
  
“Dammit!”  
\-----  
  
“Ladies, I have taught in Brockton Bay longer than either of you have been alive. I have good reason to believe that Marquis sat in my class one semester,” the professor gestured toward a human skeleton in the corner that sported some non-standard horns and bone wings. “The metallurgy department still has samples that a young Max Anders provided ‘from a friend of a friend’. Ms Dallon, your mother and aunt were also students here. During that time, the records show several fraternity houses requiring repairs for mysteriously appearing holes in the architecture.  
  
“I mention all of that to demonstrate that while our poor young grad students in the TA program are notably… _skittish_ , shall we say, about parahumans, it’s nothing new to the university as a whole or to me. And while not parahuman related, Ms Hebert, I also knew your mother when she taught here. A good woman and a fine educator, but not above the occasional prank.  
  
“So. I understand that due to your own unique abilities the two of you find basic biology less than challenging. But I must insist you stop tormenting my TAs. I’ve had six drop out of assistant teaching, two more change majors and one who sent his resignation from Barrow, Alaska.”  
  
While the professor’s eyes were rubbed, two fists silently bumped.  
  
“This is what’s going to happen if you wish to pass this class…”  
\-----  
  
“I think that went rather well, all things considered.”  
  
“I told you that last one was over the top.”  
  
“Oh come on, Steve jumping out onto that guy was hilarious!”  
  
“I’ll admit the little guy going _Squee!_ while playing facehugger--and the muffled screams were good. But over the top. How’d you even sneak him in there?”  
  
“Pshaw. Not telling. Besides, this is probably for the best. Extra credits for both of us in exchange for helping with some formal studies of the biology behind ‘Skitter’s Critters’. Which we both know runs on powers’ bullshit.”  
  
“I’m just glad they went for it. Our spies said the first option was to just kick us out.”  
  
“You’re not villains anymore--you have ‘sources’, not spies. And I’ll let you thank Lisa for both of us for suggesting it to them.”  
  
“Thank you, I will.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do _not_ recommend looking up “prolapsed cow”. The things I learned from _All Creatures Great and Small_ …  
>   
> Steve's part in this Omake was written before reading any teasers about this BDHness. But it doesn't surprise. Because _**Steve**._  
>  (Chapter 3 end notes.)

**Author's Note:**

> QoS may have gone dormant, but I remember it fondly.  
> (These are the notes at the end of the over all work.)


End file.
